


Following Orders

by Desdemon



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdemon/pseuds/Desdemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot in which Much is high-strung, the Merry Men are kind of jerks, and someone gets kissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Following Orders

**Author's Note:**

> So the change from Google Docs to Google Drive is dredging up lots of old documents I forgot about, like this one, which I wrote in 2008 and never posted for some reason. So I cleaned it up a little and here it is, four years after relevancy! I didn't didn't have any OTPs in this fandom but I did like me some Much/Robin. Unbeta'd.

"I do not!" Much released the ladle back into the pot to stare at Allan, who shrugged unrepentantly.

"Yes you do," Will said from where he was whittling.

Djaq nodded. John didn't move or say anything, but he was agreeing anyway.

Much looked from one to the next. "I do not do everything he tells me to do!"

"You haven't been a servant in what, like a year?" Allan looked to Robin, who was leaning against a tree with his arms folded.

"More like six months," Robin allowed, with a slightly distant look, as if he were concentrating on not smiling.

Allan turned back to Much. "Yeah, what I said, and you're still calling him 'Master,' and you're still doing all the cooking -"

"I cook," Much began, expanding his chest to deliver a well-deserved rebuke, "because no one else in this useless band, not even the _woman_ -"

"Excuse me?" Djaq cried, raising her eyebrows.

"He says go, you go," Allan said, blithely talking over the both of them. "He says sit, you sit. Be the diversion and let the Sheriff chase you round and round, you do it. I bet you'd even kiss him if he asked you." Allan glanced away derisively.

"I would - why - I have never -" Much's affronted feelings greatly disrupted his speech, the moreso for Djaq's thoughtfully raised eyebrows.

"Enough," Robin said from the tree. "We do much abuse our dear friend." He inclined his head towards Much.

"Yeah, leave him alone." Will looked up from his twist of wood. "S'probably hard to break habits that, you know, you formed in the Holy Land." His faint smile, Much thought, somewhat undercut his supportive words.

"Well, yes, _Will_ ," Much said anyway, with a pointed stare at Allan, "that is very true. When you're in constant danger for your life, it's hard to think about your place in the feudal system, and also, I do not do everything that he," he jerked his head at Robin, "tells me to do." He nodded once, with finality. "I don't."

Allan held up his hands in a kind of false surrender. "All I'm saying is, if he asked you to kiss him, you would do it. And that's it," he said innocently, when Robin gave him a look.

"Well, I wouldn't," Much said, with a tight smile. "I would not. Robin," he said imperiously, and when Robin did not immediately repeat the sentiment he glanced from him to the group. "Tell them."

"Tell them what, Much?"

Much turned to fully face Robin, who was still leaning back, all complacency. "That I would not... kiss you, if you asked," he said, straightening his shoulders, aware of the whole gang's eyes on his back. He took a deep breath through his nose.

Robin pouted at him. "You wouldn't?"

"Master," Much implored, trying to tell him with his eyes not to play games, while Allan muttered, "There it is." Much ignored him and waited.

At last, Robin pursed his lips and said, "Well, I can tell them that, Much, but the question is, will they believe me?" He said it with a hint of a smile, _that_ smile, the one Much hated, the smile that was usually a prelude to ridiculous acts of bravery and glory at the end of which Much was left covered in mud or running for his life or worse, hungry.

Much forced himself to laugh, even though that smile spelled his doom. "I think we can safely assume that no one here thinks that I would actually -" He swung around to encompass the gang in his gesture, and when he saw their faces, his heart sank even further.

"You can't possibly -" He didn't even know what the end of that sentence should be. _Think I am so wholly the servant. Serve me up on a platter this way._

"Ask him," Djaq suggested. The look that Much shot her tried to be a glare, but there was probably too much anguish in it for that.

"Yeah, I'd need proof," Allan agreed, and Will nodded.

John whuffed. "I wouldn't," he said.

Robin pushed himself away from the tree with one shoulder. He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. "How about it, Much?" he asked. "Should I ask you?"

Much shook his head, for a moment rendered mute. "Please don't, Master," he said at last, because he had to.

"Because he's going to do it," Allan said to the others, holding out a triumphant hand towards Much.

" _Because_ I do not deserve this," Much cried, spinning towards Allan and the others. He stared at them, unable to finish a breath, betrayed. "I serve Robin because he is kind, and just, and because he is our leader and he has earned our loyalty. Do not take that in jest, I beg you."

"No one's taking it in jest, I just want to see you say no to Robin," Allan said frankly, looking around. There was a general murmur of agreement, only some apologetic, among the gang.

Much had said his piece, and now he turned around, awaiting some judgment from Robin. Or more specifically, from the devil that now looked at him with Robin's eyes. _Please,_ Much tried to say. _Please, please._

Robin spread his arms. "Kiss me," he said, the look on his face as implacably mischievous as Much's was dismayed.

Much licked his lips and blinked. "Master, I-"

Robin raised his chin and interrupted levelly. "Kiss. Me."

Much breathed in. He breathed out. "No," he said. He turned and stalked out of the clearing. Fading away behind him he could hear Allan say, "Well, I honestly didn't see that coming," while Robin called, "Much!"

He kept walking, quickly, sucking in breaths. He struck out at tree branches to stop his hands shaking.

"Much!"

Robin's voice wasn't getting any quieter. 

"Go away!" Much shouted. He walked more quickly, ducking under a heavy limb and taking a quick right, knowing it was futile to evade him but needing, needing to put forth the effort -

"Much!" Leaves crunched. Robin was jogging to catch up with him. "Much, wait -"

Much turned around and reached out. He seized Robin by the neck, fingers spiking up into his hair, and kissed him. Robin stumbled for a moment, hands grasping at Much's clothes, before he reoriented, and by then Much had pulled away to speak.

"I would kiss you," Much said, voice trembling. "I would cook, and I would sit, and I would be every diversion, though it could very well kill me," he had to add. "I would walk straight into the castle and _spit_ in the Sheriff's face, which would definitely kill me, if you asked it of me -"

"Much," Robin tried to interrupt, brows furrowed, eyes pained.

"- I would do it," Much said, tightening his grip. He tried to catch his breath, and then he said it: "But most of all, I would kiss you."

He looked straight into Robin's eyes, so that there could be no confusion. Robin looked thrown, lost, and he was still clutching Much's tunic. His lips twitched, the beginnings of speech, so Much had to lean in again and stop up those words, whatever they might have been. 

And after a pause, after a hundred thousand years, Robin’s body relaxed. Much squeezed his shut eyes and held on tight, so weak was he with relief. Robin took a tiny half-step forward, leaning his weight into Much, and he kissed back. Much thought that maybe what had really happened was that Robin had shot him in the back for disobeying him and he was dead, and this was heaven, and if he turned around there would be a bath and a platter of ham.

After a long, sweet moment, Robin broke the kiss and pulled back, just enough to look at Much, eyes flicking from his eyes to his mouth. "Much," he said softly, at last. He touched his knuckles gently to Much's cheek. "My beautiful Much."

"Master - " Much tried to protest, blinking rapidly.

"I wanted you," Robin admitted quietly, mouth curving up, "to kiss me."

"Well, I see that now," Much said, looking significantly at the distance, or lack thereof, between them.

Robin's smile was gone as quickly as it had come. "I am sorry that I used a cruel game to tell you," he said seriously. "You're right. You did not deserve it. It was not my intention to humiliate you."

"It will not be the last time," Much said darkly. At Robin's raised eyebrows, however, he added hastily, "Nor the last time I forgive you. I forgive you, obviously."

Robin stroked Much's cheek with his thumb. "Good," he said, and he smiled _that_ smile, the one Much loved, the secret flash of teeth he had first seen flickering in desert campfires. "Good," he said again, and he kissed Much in a way that meant the same things as that smile, sand-hot, endless, and theirs alone of all others.


End file.
